Rome's word is "sex". p 103 Make's sense. I wonder what New York's word is. Then, Liz answers it: "Achieve". p 104. In the meantime, she suggests that if that word didn't have any meaning to you or any application to your life, then maybe you're in the wrong city.
So, does "achieve" having any meaning in or application to my life? Is it a word I can at least identify to some part of my life? I am trying to achieve something: a goal to become a writer. I'm trying to achieve the role of husband and a stable living environment with my fiancee. But, somehow, it doesn't quite seem to fit. However, I'm also trying to achieve peace. I'm trying to achieve sobriety (one day at a time). Really, though, that's not my achievement. It's Gods.
So, what's my word? If I asked people to use one word to describe me, what would it be? Hope? Seek? Create? Grow? Learn? Those words seem to indicate moving towards something . . . trying . . . accomplishing . . . achieving. But, achieving seems one-sided or one dimensional. It seems superficial in a way. It seems selfish. To me it describes a person who's sole purpose in life is to achieve something. This ambition defines that person.
Well, maybe that's where I am right now. I'm trying to make my mark. I'm trying to establish myself as a writer. I'm also trying to grow up, act like an adult, an accomplished man, a loving man, a supporting man and a helping man.
Can success really be attained? Isn't it fleeting? It's like the crest of a wave. It may be the highest at its crest and majestically foamy. But, it then crashes on the shore. And, sooner or later, another wave will come along that is higher and more majestically foamy.
So, what am I really searching for? I am an alcoholic. But, does that define me? Is that my word? I guess not, not while God is in my life. So, what am I seeking now?
I'm reminded of "The Noiseless Painted Spider" by Walt Whitman.
"And you, O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaseless musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridges you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul."
I feel that's me right now. My soul too is a noiseless painted spider. I question whether I'm that contemplative and it quickly comes to me that I am. I'm trying to make sense of it all in my mind, in my heart, in my soul. I'm soul-seeking . . . into space, into the universe and out towards God in all His cosmic mystery. I'm seeking understanding, seeking a clear path, though I may never truly see it. It calls me and I answer. I walk in the calling's direction, in the black of the night, through the still forest, despite the noise in my head and in my life.
Where's the still water? The babbling brook? Where is the calmness in the trees? Where is the gentle breeze, the fresh moonlight through the tree tops. With a gentle padding of my feet through the twigs, the leaves and the soft, rich earth, I venture off. I may step in brambles or on sharp stones. But, I follow the clear, unmarked, gentle path and I venture forth unharmed. I may get bumped and bruised along the way, but those are the lessons of life.
We are not meant to venture through this life unscathed. Where would the growth be then? Where would the learning be? Perhaps that is what our bodies are for: To mark the growth and the learning of our souls. Our bodies house the quiet voice, the homing beacon.
But, what new energies were given to our bodies when we were conceived? A combination of old energies and new? Recycled? Reassembled? Re-matched? Am I part of many others that have gone before me? The new souls that are growing and multiplying - where do they come from?
I think my word is seeking, right now. Or, asking. I have a lot of questions.
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